


Empty, nice words.

by sarakirai (platehate)



Series: One-shots for one-shots [3]
Category: Bitter Trap (Takagi Shigeyoshi)
Genre: F/M, Teen Angst, everywhere, idk how to rating, interior monologues, rated T for my language really, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platehate/pseuds/sarakirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By this point, she realises, telling her self that all she wants from Yoshito still is empty, nice words would be just that – empty, nice words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty, nice words.

**Author's Note:**

> a tribute of sorts - i own nothing.

**xxx**

 

Empty, nice words are all Machimura Nanao wants from Takatsuki Yoshito.

That’s what she’s been telling herself for the last three years, all that time she’s had to stew on his parting words to her – they were brusque and dismissive and carrying the implication that she was just another common, whorish gold-digger. She can’t let that go, and she certainly won’t. Somewhere deep down inside she knows that her feelings towards Yoshito aren’t merely those of a slighted friend any more: by brushing her off with a careless offer of money, he’s ended up occupying a near-permanent space in her head, and her heart. She’s sure no one would dare to call it love.

Nanao will be in class doing an assignment or carrying printouts for the teacher when his words surface in her mind, making her huff and scowl. They’re bitter thoughts to savour, bitter to bite down upon and swallow. Even worse, no matter how many times she pushes them down, they come back up. It becomes an endless cycle, and she curses herself for being caged into this bitter trap – by her own emotions.

 

**xxx**

 

Then now, three years after that parting, an offer of marriage from the Takatsuki family is extended to her now-ridiculously-poor-compared-to-them self, and she jumps at the chance to eke out her revenge on that pompous bastard who’s invaded both her mind and heart completely – she needs to wound him somehow, make him see that you can’t treat other people like worthless scum and expect not to hurt, or be hurt. The urge to demonstrate this to Yoshito is raw and hungry, so she agrees when her father begs her to accept the marriage offer (yes, it’s mercenary, but she’s a slave to something else as well, is she not?). Her family needs money, she needs – what do they call it, closure? – and to see his face again, of course. His beautiful, beautiful face. Lately she’s been thinking more about his face – how it is such a pity that his features lead the rest of the world to overlook that character, the misguided outlook on life. He’s actually broken and warped but no one can see it (except her); no one else thinks that he needs to be taught a lesson (except her). Only Nanao, because she’s seen, up close, the hairline cracks in the plaster of his heart.

She hopes and dreams, but isn't quite sure what to expect once she’s knocked the plaster down and can stare directly at his heart, beating steadily in his chest. From where she lies on his bed, still faint from hunger and exertion, the sound of his heart is what she wants most to hear – she only dimly acknowledges the apology, busy staring meditatively at the smooth planes of his back, the curve of his spine, the perfectly tailored pants that rest on his hips, belt removed. Yoshito is being sincere with her, she can tell. The way he leans in to map her features, then huffs in irritation when he admits he still doesn’t recognise her is so _genuine_ it makes her heart clench. Just a little.

In the past four days, she’s succeeded in pissing him off, gaining the approval of his siblings, and getting her point about not being a money-grubbing whore across. The revenge is complete, really, but she isn’t thinking about leaving at all, because she wants to stay. When he leans over to tuck the sheet around her, she can hear the steady beating of his meld into the flutter of her breaths. The gentle sound lulls her to sleep.

 

**xxx**

 

Nanao is pleasantly surprised in the morning, when she wakes to find her arm thrown rather unceremoniously across Yoshito’s face, for which he clobbers the back of her head. She hadn’t expected him to crawl under the sheets as well, even though it is technically _his_ bed, and they are technically _engaged_ , which makes it technically _their_ bed.   _For two people with serious trust issues (especially when it comes to each other in these circumstances), we sure do get along well in bed, huh. Even when fully clothed._ Nanao valiantly fights down a blush. By this point, she realises, telling her self that all she wants from Yoshito still is empty, nice words would be just that – empty, nice words.

She can’t say it aloud, but she wants _so_ much more.

 

**xxx**

**Author's Note:**

> here, have some empty, nice words from the author of this fanfiction too.
> 
> thank you for reading; comments, kudos and constructive criticism will always be appreciated.
> 
> toodles.


End file.
